The Bittersweet Taste of Revenge
by Sylphien
Summary: The tale did not end when Sarah beat the Labyrinth, Jareth would not let it. So began the sortie between the two. Until one day Jareth stood victor, manipulating those around Sarah into committing her against her will an institute for the mentally ill. She has bided her time for 9 years since, revenge is a dish best served cold, after all. A story of revenge and love.
1. We're all mad here

I do not own the Labyrinth or its characters, all the crazy is me though.

We have the lovely nothingnothingtralala along for the beta ride again, she's a sucker for nonsensical aposthrophe punishment.

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**"An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind."**  
**― Mahatma Gandhi**

* * *

"Now, Ms Williams," he says, making her feel old. It's usually just Sarah – Ms Williams is her stepmother, after all, but he probably doesn't know that. "I've been sent as an independent psychiatrist to review your case. You have been in the Mella Lado institute for-" He pauses, reading from his papers.

She wants to snatch them from him. She is not allowed to have Paper With Words anymore; they give her 'strange ideas', apparently. Now her papers are always blank. They tell her there are pictures waiting for her inside of that paper; she is pressured to find them. They call it art therapy.

"It looks as though, despite an escalation of care, you have not made any improvement with treatment in the _nine years_ you have been with the institute," he continues. "I only ask that you be as truthful with me as you can possibly manage."

_Truth._

It is such a slippery thing. Once she knew the truth, then that truth changed and it isn't allowed any more. No matter how many times she tries to know the truth it always seems to be wrong. Ever since they brought her here no one tells her the truth. They all speak softly, never raising their voices, empty words. Sometimes the walls whisper to her, but that is a lie too, they tell her so. The walls are the only ones who do not tell her she is wrong or a liar, but that is her secret.

"I'll try my best," she says.

She always tries her best, but it never seems to impress anyone, and now they have sent a new white coat. She has a psychiatrist already, but it is a woman, and this is a man. A good looking man… probably… no basis for comparison, isn't that what he said? She can't compare other men to _him_, after all.

What about her, does she look good? She can't remember when she last brushed her hair; did they take her hairbrush away? Perhaps someone has brushed it for her recently? They do that sometimes. Sarah tries to run her fingers through the length of it to check, but quickly finds knots so raggedy they need cutting out. _That would be a no on the brushing..._

She looks closer now and sees that the white coat is wearing a wedding ring. Married... figures, all the good ones are.

"Is that something you're interested in, Ms Williams, marriage?"

So, clearly she has said that out loud. That has been happening a lot since they upgraded her psychologist to a psychiatrist; since the prescriptions started being filled. At first she flushed the little white tablets down the toilet, but now they follow her to the bathroom to check.

"I don't think I'm going to find a keeper in here," she drawls. "There's Tony who is locked up because he ate his dog, or Ralph who checked himself in and has a penchant for licking everything, and I_ do_ mean _everything_. That's not even mentioning the fact that I have nothing to offer the opposite sex. Certified crazy and I'm hardly worldly or educated. After all I've been locked up here for the latter half of my adolescent and now adult life, not much of a catch."

"Do you think it's due to sexual dormancy that you project these fantasies of unobtainable men?"

"What unobtainable men would those be?" she laughs, but she knows he's going to bring it up, they always do.

"This particular character you always seem to be chasing after, the Goblin King."

"Chasing?" she snorts. "If anything I'm hiding from him here. Besides, he practically proposed to me, I'd say that's pretty obtainable. I'm only in here because I said no." Of course, none of that is true, but even crazy people have their pride.

"Ms Williams… you are aware that this is a high level psychiatric institution?" he asks, frowning. Perhaps he thinks she has mistaken it for a day spa that has fallen on hard times. She stares at the check pattern on his shirt, and giggles.

"Yes, yes. I know that I've been committed against my will," she grins, even though it isn't funny, not even to her. "That doesn't make the rest of it a lie."

_Delusional._

She can see him write it on the Paper With Words, the lucky Thing. If she was allowed to write words she would probably write something with fewer syllables, like spectacles. Perhaps she will tell the wall about that later.

This white coat is wearing spectacles; is that where the word came from? Sometimes her brain makes those leaps without her permission now. It _is_ a great word though, spec-ta-cles; she tastes it in her mouth. Why do so many people insist on calling them glasses when spectacles is such a great word?

"Ms Williams, what just happened?"

Sarah looks up at the doctor in front of her, lost. "What?"

"I was asking you what you meant by 'the rest of it,' but you lost focus and became unresponsive. Can you tell me what happened just now?"

She licks her lips. "I was just thinking about your spectacles."

_Delusional_… she was thinking about that too, and the Paper With Words, and the wall. She doesn't tell him. They all say she is a liar, but silence isn't the same as a lie.

The doctor removes his spectacles, folds them and places them into his shirt pocket. Perhaps she isn't allowed to think about his spectacles. For some reason it only makes her want to think about them more.

"Stubborn, you've always been stubborn," she mutters to herself. Not her words, she's been told that countless times though, she remembers.

He gives her an odd look. "Do you understand why you are here?" he asks.

"Because he had power over them," she mumbles.

"I'm sorry?" the white coat asks. He isn't, but they never are.

"He had no power over me, but he had power over _them_, and it seems that they had power over me in the end, go figure." She giggles. "What's the point in him having no power over me when he still has power over everyone else?"

"Ms Williams, do you understand what schizophrenia is?"

"Do _you_ understand what the Rosenhan experiment is?" she shoots back. For a moment the fog clears, almost, but that never lasts.

It is hard to pay attention to this white coat. He will not look at her; they all like to avoid eye contact in here. How can one have a productive conversation when you cannot check to see if they are being manipulated by _him_? Besides, she is much more interested in taking her new word back to the wall in her room.

"Are we almost done here? My friends are due to visit soon."

He gives her another pitying look. "Ms Williams, according to my records you haven't had any visitors since you came into the care of the institute."

She grins. "That's right… none that you know about. Insanity doesn't deter true friends, however; they come to see me nearly every day."

He sighs, an unhappy sigh. She has not pleased him. No matter, they rarely seem pleased with her; it only mattered to her when she first arrived here. Now she knows that she is mad; she takes the tablets, she talks to the wall, she displeases them. It is her routine. One needs a routine.

He nods, using more of his Paper With Words. One must not covet, she tells herself, but it is hard not to sometimes, there's so little else to do in here.

"One last thing, Ms Williams," he says. His eyes slide off her like butter off a hot plate. Her hair must look really terrible… pity they are not allowed mirrors since The Incident.

"Can you tell me why you have harmed yourself?" He indicates the slashes and scabs on the back of her left hand.

So he does want to talk about The Incident then, does he? He can't see the pattern forming in these aesthetically displeasing cuts – none of them can.

"Revenge," she smiles sweetly, "for my revenge." Seven years' bad luck is a small price to pay for that.

He shakes his head and folds the paper with words neatly, placing it back into his folder.

"Thank you, Ms Williams, Bernie will take you back to your room now," he sighs.

Today was easy.

This new white coat only talked about _him_, not the 'monsters'. The hairy one, the short one, the fox; usually they like to bring those three up if they can. Everyone has a different idea of what they represent: family trauma, childhood abuse, emotional distress. They tell her the Labyrinth is her mind, twisted and maze-like. If they only knew… it will be true soon enough.

Bernie arrives. She likes him; he is big and slow like the furry friend. He does not try to touch her inappropriately; he lets her use the bathroom alone. He lets her be a human, and due to this she feels he is one also. Some of them are not.

They go back to her room but Bernie does not lock the door today. She does not always like it open; Ralph might come and lick her things. Not that there is anything left now: she looks and sees that there is no hair brush after all. There is nothing. All that she has is the bed and the mirror.

It is not a real mirror anymore; though she still needed the pieces of the old one, they took them away when she started the cutting. This one she drew on the wall, and that is why the wall whispers now. If she still had the crayon she would draw herself in the mirror. She would draw her hair neat and tidy and a tree and maybe the sun. This mirror works just fine without those though.

"Hoggle, I need you," she whispers, watching the unlocked door with trepidation. It is harder now than when the mirror was real, now she cannot see when he is looking back at her. "Hogg-"

"I'm here, Sarah," is the reply. It comes from either her friend or the wall, or both. It's possible it's no more than a voice in her head, but if that's true then she is already lost and there's no need to agonise over ignoring it.

"Is all prepared?"

She hears him hesitate. "I'm still not sure about this, Sarah."

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner," she blurts, knowing it has some relation to what she wants to say, but is not quite right.

"I don't think it's a good idea to get Toby involved."

"Have you thought of a better alternative then?" She frowns; she knows he hasn't. "Or shall I just wait until my mind is pudding?"

"He is only a boy, Sarah," he chides, "and we're not exactly sure what this will _do_."

"I was only a girl once too." She stops. Suddenly she is torn by his words and knows the feeling is guilt. She has not been a girl for some time now; she did not get much time to be one. The Goblin King saw to that. "He has said he can do this… he knows the words, they will keep him safe."

"Like they kept _you_ safe?"

Sarah bites her lip until it bleeds. There is no other alternative now. So much planning, so many years of research. With her one long fingernail she scratches at the thin lines on the back of her hand, rocking back and forth on the floor.

"If something should happen will you keep him safe for me?" she asks.

"I could not keep you safe," he laments.

With her hand she smears the blood from her lip across her cheek.

"Different, different, we couldn't see the evil owl coming then, but this time you will know. If I cannot clip his wings then you should run and hide."

She hears the wall sigh. "Are you suggesting that we leave you behind?"

She smiles, raising her bloody hand in a salute to the ceiling. "I'm saying I don't even know if you haven't already. I'm more than a little bit mad, you know."

"We won't abandon you, Sarah."

"If we can't pull this off there will be nothing left to abandon, just a cracked husk full of jelly," she snorts.

There is a long silence. "Fine," he agrees. "To be honest I doubt I could stop what has been set in motion anymore even if I wanted to. Your brother is as stubborn as you are."

She grins, scratching at her hand. "The babe with the power."

She can tell when he eventually leaves the fake mirror; some subtle ambient sound is no longer present in the room. Now she must wait.

She follows the routine.

It consists of boredom, mostly. Hours spent alone in her room with only the poor companionship of her own mental faculties… or lack thereof. Lunch, grey goop on plastic plates with plastic spoons; these are collected and checked after the meal. Daily tablets – there is no avoiding this slow poison anymore; her intake is monitored. The orderly gets handsy, checking under her tongue and handling her a little more than is necessary. She's bit them for less in the past, but she does not like going to the dark room.

Group therapy, bonding with people who are even more mentally ill than you are: perhaps this is to promote competition amongst patients? Exercise time, art therapy and musical healing.

Time always passes slowly here, but today it is a battle.

Finally it is time for dinner. She sits next to Tony; he usually smells bad, but so does she, probably. It is even greyer goop this time on her plate. She pushes it off and onto the table. She draws an owl on the table for Tony; he likes owls. She does not; but hopefully this is the last day here so she can afford to be generous.

_I have been generous._ She shudders.

When she goes to leave, the touchy feely orderly finds her.

"Where's your spoon?"

She shakes her head; she has left it on the table with the owl.

"Are you hiding it?" he growls.

She points at the table. "I used it to make an owl."

"You're a liar, Williams girl; you've got it on you, don't you?" He starts to frisk her.

She doesn't like it.

Her arm travels the arc towards his face without her permission. She bruises her knuckles in the backward slap, and her long fingernail snaps. She is sad; she has been growing that fingernail in secret for some time now, what a waste to break it today when it was almost free.

He punches her square in the jaw. She can see from the look of shock on his face that he has surprised even himself in this. She almost feels a little bit sorry for him. The madness here spreads and lowers inhibitions. That's why they're all afraid to make eye contact, they know it's catching.

She giggles through the bubble of blood on her reopened lip wound.

Bernie comes then, but he takes her down the path that she does not like. Long shadows, bars and silence: the dark room.

It is the proverbial oubliette of the institute.

Now she feels some panic. Not because it is dark and scary, which it is. Nor because she truly thinks she will be forgotten, but because she has not finished the one thing she still needs to do.

With her fingers she traces the scabbed lines on the back of her hand. They are not yet complete, and now she must make them from memory because she has no light to work from.

She twists the jagged, broken end of her freshly damaged nail into the soft flesh. She cuts the pattern from memory. She has looked at it thousands of times, and it is burned so deep into her mind that even the madness cannot touch it.

She only knows it has worked for sure after many long, dark hours draw out, and he finally comes.

It is like an explosion when he does. She hears him thrown across the room violently; he crashes into the wall with a sickening thump. Even if she cannot see it, she knows it must hurt.

There is something to be seen, though, as if his skin has some faint luminescent glow. The blob that is him gropes through the dark, nursing his injuries. Soon his keen senses take over and he crawls awkwardly towards her. With a malicious growl he grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her in the darkness.

"Do you know what you've just _done_? Do you have _any_ idea what it is you've just _done_?" he shouts. His anger is so visceral it takes her breath away, but only for a moment.

She smiles. "Hello, Goblin King."

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**A/N:** And so beginneth a new story.

I thought I'd be sad to be back at the starting line again, but since I like writing Sarah and Jareth hating on each other in the early chapters I find I'm quite looking forward to it.

This story will be quite different to the last and might take some time to adjust to, we'll get some Jareth POV next chapter and I'll continue to switch between the two throughout.

Onward!

**Chapter title credit** to _Alice in Wonderland_ by Lewis Carroll.

**The Rosenhan Experiment: **For those of you who do not know what Sarah is referencing here, was a study of healthy individuals who sought admission to psychiatric health institutes under the pretence of being mentally ill to test psychiatric diagnosis. After admission they all behaved normally and claimed to be mentally healthy, seeking release from the clinics. They were denied their freedom until they admitted to psychiatric disorders and agreed to take antipsychotics as a condition of their release (which they disposed of). All but one were diagnosed as schizophrenics. Any actions they took while in the insititute, which might otherwise be considered normal behaviour (e.g. writing), was considered as pathological. All reported a feeling of dehumanisation whilst in the care of these institutes.


	2. Strike while the iron is hot

**"In revenge and in love woman is more barbaric than man is."**

**-****Friedrich Nietzsche, ****_Beyond Good and Evil_**

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**1986 **

She had said no.

Well, no… that wasn't strictly true. She hadn't said 'no' exactly, she just hadn't said 'yes'. Even so, it was the closest to a negative reply that he had ever received, and that made it his loss.

_You have no power over me._

Well, well, quite so. Words had power after all, so now he had no power over her; although the very fact that she had managed to utter such a thing was perhaps evidence that he had never possessed her at all. He knew it shouldn't bother him; he hadn't really wanted her, after all. She was just a child, a slip of a thing, but for some reason that made it all the more infuriating that she had managed to beat him at his own game.

She had turned him down. He had offered dreams, her dreams, more importantly. He had even put himself on the line… well; it was true that he'd worded _that _carefully enough, there was little concern in becoming a slave when one must 'do as you say,' after all. Still, it chafed him, and now as he watched her celebrate from the branch outside of her window, he felt bitter.

He hadn't lost. Their game was bigger than that, he would make it so. This was just a small inconsequential match in the scheme of the things to come; he would be victorious at their end game.

Yes, she hadn't won anything at all.

He would see to that.

**1998**

"I think I must have misheard you, I thought I heard you say _Toby Williams_."

The goblin before him splits into an almost endearing grin and nods it's little head.

The Goblin King regards it doubtfully.

_Idiots._

It couldn't possibly be Toby Williams. Then again, humans have an almost tiresome repetition in their naming conventions, perhaps it could be _a _Toby Williams.

"Fine. But this is not _the_ Toby William's, who was briefly a fixture in the Labyrinth?"

The goblin continues to nod, it has, in fact, not stopped nodding since it first started. He is not sure if this is because the answer is still true, or if this moronic little skin bag has simply forgotten to halt the action. He suspects the latter, simply because it is impossible that the younger Williams child would be making wishes. His sister would have taught him better than that, surely?

"Go," he mutters, waving the messenger away and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. It will turn out to be nothing, a wild goose chase, pity really. The last real fun he's experienced in centuries was been at the expense of a Williams, but all good things must come to an end. Sarah was been an excellent sparring partner, until things had started to get dangerous, then he'd had to tuck her away somewhere safe. For her own good, of course. Now he didn't get the headaches he used to, but it _was_ rather boring. She had not interfered with the Labyrinth since he'd had her manoeuvred into that place, given enough time she would have destroyed everything he'd worked for here, they were both better off with this arrangement.

How long has she been in the institute now in human years? He pauses; it must be no short period of time by mortal standards. So how old is her brother now? How long have they been apart? Isn't there some small chance that Toby Williams has grown up to be estranged from his sister? In that case it isn't _completely_ impossible that the wisher could be _him_.

He smiles indulgently at the thought. He hadn't bothered manipulating a baby Toby, not as he did the rest of Sarah's family, there was nothing to gain from that. An older Toby might be more interesting though, if he has the same courage and stubborn nature as his sister then granting a wish to the young man might be an enjoyable game.

With that in mind he plucks a crystal orb from the air with practiced grace.

_Toby Williams._

Inside he sees the very boy he had hoped for. Older now, a shock of blonde hair and serious blue eyes; he does not closely resemble Sarah, but the scowl on his face is all too familiar. Jareth finds he is grinning, if the boy is anything like his difficult sister then this will be an enjoyable diversion.

In the crystal he can see him mouthing the words of his wish with a growing sense of anticipation and disappointment. The messenger Toffel reported that he has been wishing for the past few hours now, does his insistent belief that he will be heard stem from Sarah's tales? Perhaps he is merely so desperate he has disregarded any warnings his sister might also have left him with. No matter, The Goblin King has heard and has every intention of answering the call.

He sidesteps through time as if it were no more difficult than stepping through a doorway. He is, perhaps, too eager, and has forgotten the joy of a dramatic entrance. Without crashing thunder, lightning, or winds to rattle the latched windows and announce him with their howling, his arrival falls flat. Which is to say, it goes unnoticed for several minutes, long awkward minutes, which he spends staring at the back of the blondes boy's head and wondering if he should clear his throat loudly.

Eventually, Toby turns, and his disappointment only grows. The boy's eyes widen, but he looks less than shocked. In fact he looks… annoyed, as if Jareth is late for some prior appointment.

Jareth frowns. It's hard to work with this, shock and disbelief are easy, impatience is unfamiliar and his mouth goes dry as he gropes for his line.

"Young Tobias," he bluffs, he hasn't quite gotten his arrogant stride back yet, but it will come.

Toby William's cocks an eyebrow as his eyes sweep over him. "Goblin King."

He is stuck again for a moment, this isn't going to plan at all; the boy is a much harder sell than his sister. "You made a wish," he drawls, trying to regain control of the situation.

"I did," Toby agrees.

He smiles darkly. "I've granted it, or rather, the contract is in place which will fulfil it in due course"

"Okay."

Jareth grinds his teeth. _Okay, okay? That's a rather flippant response for a wish he's been so eagerly trying to make for the past few hours._

"But I want you to make me a promise," adds the young man.

Ah, now this is something he is familiar with, bargaining. He relaxes slightly.

"I know you've had dealings with my sister, and she told me not to trust you."

Jareth smiles and nods, he would have expected at least that much.

"I still want the wish, of course, and I doubt you'd let me take it back anyway. I just want a sign of your honour that you haven't twisted what I've asked for and granted it badly, since it's not completely fulfilled yet." Toby grimaces.

"Badly?" Jareth knows his innocent look leaves something to be desired, but he does his best.

"Yeah, I don't want you to take anything out of context."

"How old are you Tobias?"

"It's Toby," he growls, "and I'm twelve."

"Twelve." He smirks, still little more than a baby. "You are aware that I said I'd _granted_ the wish, so regardless of any acts I now perform it has already taken shape. Not that I'm necessarily bound by honour anyway, as you should be aware."

"All the same," the boys insists, "this is an agreement between men."

He can't contain his snort of laughter; there are no men in this room to make such an agreement, only a boy and a fae, but whatever. The thought causes him to examine the room properly and gives him pause. This is Sarah's room, is that why the boy has made a wish, while thinking of his sister? The room is ironically not so changed from when he last saw it, still very much the décor of a child, but she must be a woman grown by now.

He turns his attention back to the well-meaning boy. "And what is this nonsensical sign of honour you require, if I were to accommodate to you?"

The boy sniffs. "Handshake."

The Goblin King laughs; it is clearly a day for humour. What sort of a ridiculous situation is this? He ponders the request, tapping his top lip.

"Very well, but let us make further arrangements, I'm feeling… generous."

Toby gives him a look of mistrust. "What arrangements?"

"Well young… Toby," he says the name distastefully, clearly preferring the more formal convention. "You've made, let's see how many-" he stops to count exaggeratedly on his fingers. "Oh look, it's your age, twelve; you've made twelve wishes today."

Toby pales.

"I agree to your _honourable _terms for only one of these wishes, although it is just the same wish repeated over and over, greedy, greedy. I shall grant all the others as I see fit."

"Wait," calls the boy, "let's just make it the one wish then."

"But you were so insistent-"

"Just one," grates Toby. "I give up all those other wishes for the promise that you'll honour this one and prove your worth by shaking my hand."

"My worth?" Jareth snarls. "Do you think to measure me by my handshake?"

"Why, do you think it will be lacking?"

_Touche._ The boy has all the spunk of his older sister; he can't help but feel a little nostalgic. He is not afraid of a twelve year old, however.

With a smirk he holds out his right hand towards the boy, no action of his now will undo a wish made, but this particular wish is one he has influence over, so he can make this promise and keep it. If he so chooses.

Toby looks doubtfully down at the gloved hand. "I said handshake."

Jareth's arm is getting sore. "And?"

"And that's a glove, I said handshake, not gloveshake, do it properly."

Annoying brat, what a tedious thing to nitpick over. He doesn't usually take his gloves off in company; however he's all but accepted this arrangement now. Besides, even he's not sure he could have found twelve different ways to twist that wish without having to adhere to it several times, at least now he must only do so once.

"Fine," he mutters, slipping the glove off and flexing his hand. The pattern of tattoos on the back of his palm undulate with magic, he see the boy glance at them in interest.

_Right, now he's suddenly impressed._

Perhaps he should have simply showed up and pulled a rabbit from a hat for the child?

He reaches out again, a tiresome expression on his face.

Toby gives the hand another dubious look.

"What is it now?" he growls in irritation, closing his eyes.

"Absolutely nothing," he hears the boy murmur.

A small hand finds his and gives it a tight squeeze, not a bad grip for a twelve year old. The grasp tightens further and Jareth frowns, but does not open his eyes. Is the boy trying to impress him? This has been a rather tiring day. Suddenly he feels something hot brush the back of his palm.

At first it doesn't feel like anything, a whisper of heat. Then his head explodes with pain and his eyes fly open. He screams, loudly, trying to pull his hand from Toby's, but, failing to do so, falls to his knees in agony. His whole arm is on fire and there is a stink or burning flesh and a hot metal tang in the room.

_Iron._

Sarah's brother holds the curling iron flat against the tattooed pattern on his hand, scoring flesh. He shrieks again, the pain is blinding, a red film covers his vision and he fears he will pass out. Finally, the poisonous metal is removed, and his hand falls limp at his side. He clutches it to his chest, wheezing and groaning from the throbbing ache which is still running through it.

He turns blind eyes on the boy. "You!" he croaks weakly.

He cannot strike out, however, because the whole room tilts. He realises it then, what he hadn't noticed when distracted by agony.

_Gone._

His connection to the Labyrinth, to his magic, is broken. The seal which had held everything together has been seared away by the taint of the iron. The intricate symbols on the back of his hand are almost entirely obliterated, and now the Labyrinth has no master, it is free to run wild again.

_No._

That is wrong too, the Labyrinth is not without a master. He is now no more than an inhabitant there, but he can feel the pull of the new controlling force, ripping him through time and space to stand before it, with no power over his flight. He cleaves a path from Sarah's room to somewhere else, this new force tearing at him with the blunt, untrained power it has now acquired.

He hits a stone wall hard, jarring the shoulder of his sore arm. Momentarily he is so dizzy with shock and pain he cannot get a grasp on his consciousness. He lies in the dark, breathing in an out and wondering if he is about to meet death. Then his head clears.

_Sarah._

He has been a fool. Toby didn't just attack him; he knew the exact weak spot to look for. The Labyrinth has a new master; this means someone has made a similar contract with it to his own. Someone with the knowledge of the seal, and, it seems, with no magic experience. It's too much to credit such a thing to a twelve year old boy, but his sister… she has always proved herself a force to be reckoned with.

He rolls onto his good arm and glances around in the dark. Barely, there is the hint of a person in this room of shadows. He knows it is her, instinctually; she carries the scent of the Labyrinth now. Fuelled by rage and pain he crawls awkwardly towards her, until she is the outline of a person, black against black in the tiny cell. He does not know why she sits in the dark, but he does not care, his mind is filled with a frenzy of other things.

He grabs the curve of her shoulders and shakes her.

"Do know what you've _done_?" he screams. "Do you have _any_ idea what it is you've just _done_?" his voice is filled with such vitriol he almost recoils from it. He himself is only just beginning to realise all of the implications of this devastating act. He shakes her again, hard, but she seems unfazed.

After a moments silence she replies.

"Hello Goblin King."

She begins to laugh then. That is when he knows she has no idea of the repercussions of her actions. She must be mad; this stupid, senseless girl has ruined everything. In the dark he gropes for her hand and finds it sticky with blood, he does not doubt the pattern that once graced his palm is reflected there.

"What have you done?" he groans, "you stupid, selfish child! DID you not cause me enough trouble in the past, now you're hell bent on destroying the Labyrinth too?"

She continues to chuckle. "Only you, _precious_," she mocks, "But I'll take care of _my_ Labyrinth."

He lets go of her shoulders forcefully, propelling her into the wall behind her.

"Take care of it? You've destroyed it already!"

"Liar!"

"Really? You think you have any idea about the function and purpose of the Labyrinth? What I've built?"

"A poxy goblin army and a dusty old castle-"

"Which you destroyed," he finishes. "Do you think that's all the Labyrinth is?"

"I don't care," she hisses. "For every day I've suffered here, you will suffer a lifetime."

"You're crazy."

"Certified," she sings. "Me and the mirror, and the whitecoats and the whispering. It's all a conspiracy for revenge. I might never get out of this place, but I can't wait to see what drugs they'll put you on here. I do wonder how you'll explain your presence in this room, for starters."

"I'm not staying here," he growls, "I have to get back to the Labyrinth _immediately_ to see what can be salvaged from this wreck."

"Toddle along then. Oh wait, I broke your homing device, can you find it without a map?"

He can hear her crawling along the wall in the darkness, running her hands up and down the stone. What the hell is wrong with her, has she always been this _odd_?

"We'll be going together," he snarls quietly. He can't go without her, all the power he once had, the power of the Labyrinth, now only she wields it.

"I'm not going anywhere, ever," she replies. "That's been made abundantly clear to me since I got committed. No play dates outside, Goblin King says no."

"Forget the past. We need to go, now."

He can hear her turn towards him in the dark. "Then what's stopping you?" she whispers, a smile in her voice.

He squeezes his fist angrily, biting his lip hard when he realises it is the damaged one. "I can't reach my magic, the connection is gone. You took it."

"What, this old thing?"

Jareth has the distinct impression she is holding up her own palm, which is marked with the Labyrinth seal.

"I need you to take me," he says, his voice dangerously low.

"Give me one good reason why I'd ever help you. I hate you. I'm crazy, but I'm not that crazy."

He seethes with anger, this is an emergency and he has to rely on the wits of this addled, frustrating child and her juvenile behaviour. So she is angry that he's had her locked up? There are caretakers, food, activities, why is she so ungrateful? It is far better than some dank oubliette – this particular room excluded, of course. Has she actually lost her senses to this place? Reasoning with her is clearly not working, and she's more than aware that he is in no position to threaten. All that is left, that his pride will allow, is to bargain.

"I do have a reason, Sarah," he says, thinking quickly. "And I think you'll be packing you bags once you hear it."

"Thrill me," she drawls, "I'll start rolling my socks."

"The Labyrinth is very unstable right now." He smiles. "It will be a very dangerous place for your little brother; coincidentally I happen to know _exactly_ where he is."

Silence stretches out between them like a knife; he can hear her breathing in the dark.

"What have you done with Toby?" she finally asks.

He grins, knowing that he finally has her. She might not be in her right mind now, but the concern in her voice is obvious.

"All I did was grant his wish Sarah," he explains. "Wasn't that part of your grand scheme to summon me, Toby making a wish? All I've done is what he's asked of me."

She remains silent, the room is filled with a tension so thick it threatens to choke them both.

"Oh Goblin King," Jareth mimics the young boy's voice. "I wish you would take me away to the Labyrinth, right now."

He cannot contain his pleased smirk at Sarah's grievous wail. It is the best lie he has ever told her.

Regaining power over Sarah Williams was not so difficult after all.

* * *

**A/N:** Phew, moving to present tense in this piece is tough, as was writing Jareth for this chapter - I prefer it when he can spend all his time being a smart ass.

**Sarah Rose 29:** Ta!

**Aleta Wolff:** That's what he gets for underestimating Toby!

**TheRealEatsShootsAndLeaves:** I do like beating on him, it's just too much fun.

**Getsunohimesama:** Don't worry, I will make it my mission to make his life very hard. We will eventually have romance though, just because I'm a sucker for it.

**J Luc Pitard:** Yup we got it all, and a lying Goblin King this time round - that should be fun.

**qiana:** I caught it just to write this...


	3. This queen you think you own

**"My silence is not weakness, but the beginning of my revenge."**

**Unknown.**

* * *

**1986**

"I don't understand. I handed in the assignment just yesterday, what do you mean it's overdue?"

"Overdue, Ms Williams, means that you are late with the assignment."

"But I'm not," argued Sarah. "I handed it in yesterday, to you, like, directly in your hand."

"So you keep saying." He sighed. "But I assure you I never received any assignment from you, I don't even recall seeing you yesterday."

Sarah gave her English teacher, Mr Davies, a hard look. He wasn't the sort of man to joke around, and this was far from funny. Could he have possibly forgotten that she had pushed her way into his office yesterday to hand in her project?

"Fine," she muttered. "I most certainly gave it to you, but if you say you don't have it _anymore_ then there's not much I can do. I'll go home and print out another copy and bring it in tomorrow."

"It's _overdue_, Ms Williams," he stressed.

"Fine," she huffed, "I'll ride my bike back in tonight to hand it in. I'll go right now."

Mr Davies gave her an irritated look. "You're missing the point here. This assignment was due yesterday, _y-e-s-t-e-r-d-a-y, _you know what my policy on late work is."

Sarah blinked, she knew all too well. "You can't be serious?"

"I fear I am. This is an instant fail, you'll be assigned an 'F' grade for this particular piece."

"Wait!" she cried. "I'm never late with my work, you know that. I take this class very seriously and I worked really hard on this project. I understand that you have strict guidelines on lateness, but I swear my work was, and is, ready to be handed in. I don't know if I dreamed bringing it in to you or there's been some mistake-"

"No mistake of mine," he interrupted indignantly. "I'm sorry Sarah, I understand that you're upset, but rules are rules. There's a first time for everyone with this sort of thing, you'll just have to work harder next time.

Sarah stared helplessly at the uncompromising man. She had never once thought that Mr Davies strict guidelines were an issue, but then, she'd never been stuck on this side of them before. Was there some sort of a mistake here? How could she have imagined the trouble she'd gone to in preparing the assignment to bring it in yesterday? The printer had given her so much grief that she'd been close to tearing her hair out.

She looked at the portly, older man, and frowned. "Yesterday you were wearing a yellow tie," she said pointedly.

"What of it?" he asked, surprised. His eyebrows rose to add weight to his question.

Sarah made an exasperated face. "So how could I know that if I didn't see you yesterday?"

Her English teacher sighed loudly. "Any number of ways, you could have guessed it, or another student could have told you. I don't want to play childish games with you Ms Williams, this particular project is a failing grade. You can still make up for this in your overall marks if you work hard for the rest of the year. You simply need to _do as I say_."

Sarah inhaled too quickly and started to cough. Looking up at Mr Davie's through watery eyes she could see the concern on his face as he awkwardly tapped her back while she tried to regain her normal breathing pattern. He was every inch the man who'd been teaching her for the past year, nothing out of place.

"What did you just say?" she croaked, stepping away from him.

He frowned, failing to understand her sudden stiff attitude. "I said if you redouble your efforts and really commit to the work for the rest of the year then you'll have no problem in catching up for your final grade.

Sarah eyed him warily, not sure if she was being paranoid or if there really _was_ something to the ice cold trickle running down her spine. "That's not what you said," she whispered.

"That's exactly what I said," he replied seriously. "I truly am sorry I can't make a concession on your part, you're an exceptional student Sarah, but rules are rules."

"Yes," she agreed, feeling an odd sense of dread flickering in the back of her mind. "And what's said is said…"

**1998**

It was just like the Goblin King to underestimate her.

He thought that they were still playing the same game, and so play she would, but she was playing to win. Her role was familiar, the stubborn and contrary princess who regretted her hasty action. Yet Sarah felt no regret at what she had done, instead she felt the overwhelming presence of the Labyrinth calling to her through the connection that now ran down her arm, stemming from the mark on the back of her hand. There was no way she would spend another day in this institute, no matter how enjoyable it might be to actually introduce the 'unattainable man' to the whitecoats. Of course, escaping would be no simple matter.

She could feel the strong connection to the buzzing reservoir of power, channelled through her new bond. It was a sensuous string of wild magic, but she had absolutely no idea of how to wield it. Over the years the Goblin King had worked so hard to keep her from the Labyrinth that asking to go there now would instantly assure that he would forbid it. At all costs she must remain his opposition and seem unwilling to leave here, only then would he push her to it. The moment she ceased to fight against him in anything his suspicion might destroy any dreams of escape. It was fortuitous that he now needed her to make that journey home himself, but even so, she must not seem too eager. She had already made one mistake after all.

_Spectacles._

She had forgotten the spectacles. It had all been blurry in her head, still was really, but she shouldn't have forgotten. A device which brings things into focus, used to examine the substance of an object. The very same thing she had been trying to prompt herself to do, they had been a symbol to her twisted psyche. How could she have given Toby's wish so little thought? Leaving that detail to a twelve year old had been a mistake. If everything wasn't so fragmented in her mind she would have remembered, she could have come up with a fool proof plan. For now this plan would have to do. So Toby was in the Labyrinth? As would she be, shortly, and then they'd make of that what they could. She would not need the Goblin King's assistance once she was there, but for this first step, at least, it was necessary.

"What have you done with Toby?" she asks. She already knows, of course, he has already as much as told her. She knows he likes the theatrics though, let him play the villain; she will pretend to cower in fear.

His feral grin almost prompts one of her own, but she must appear aggrieved. Acting is hard, emotions are hard. What is normal again? How should she react to his words? At least this room is dark to hide some of her defects. She wonders if he'd notice the subtlety of a slightly misplaced emotion, just how familiar is he with mortals? Fooled by a twelve year old… perhaps there's little to worry about after all.

She can hear the smile in his voice as he replies. "All I did was grant his wish Sarah. Wasn't that part of your grand scheme to summon me, Toby making a wish? All I've done is what he's asked of me."

Let him be smug now that he's figured it out, it still doesn't change the stinking smell of his burned flesh, so pungently obvious in the small room. Who has power over whom?

_I'm winning Goblin King._

She remains silent because she fears she will give herself away, she tries to be sad. Years ago they had her on pills which made her feel depressed all the time, she was always crying, now she can't remember how to make tears anymore. Without them she's always been quicker to anger than melancholy, but despondency will please him and blind him to the truth.

This proves itself true when he cannot help but press his advantage. "Oh Goblin King, I wish you would take me away to the Labyrinth, right now."

As he mimics her brother she feels an urgent need to spit in his face, but restrains herself. Not stomping on his vanity, when it's so overinflated that it's clearly begging for it, helps fuel the sorrow she is grasping for. That and thinking about her brother, who must have been confused when left with the huge responsibility of calling on the Goblin King with no clear direction. He has made a dire mistake, but an understandable one considering the burden she had left him with. They will be together soon, once she can control the magic of the Labyrinth she will make things right.

Sensing the expectation in the air, she lets out a heartbroken howl, half genuine sorrow and half victory. She is a venus fly trap, and he surely cannot help but be tempted by the scent he thinks is victory. His arrogance is his best asset and biggest flaw.

"What have you done with my brother? Bring him back!" she cries, biting the inside of her cheek to force tears into her eyes.

He chuckles. "Now, now Sarah, this is _your _great plan. Didn't I tell you that there was a good reason for you to assist me? Now if you'll just be a good girl and actually _listen_ we can get this whole mess sorted out. We're going back to the Labyrinth, and once we do the current _arrangements_," he stares pointedly at her hand, "will be rectified."

_My ass they will be._

"What do you expect me to do exactly? Trust you?" she asks. "How do I know you'll take me to Toby once we're in the Labyrinth? You might just make me run it again!"

_Not that I need you to take me anywhere, and I doubt that you could force me to run anything with the current 'arrangements' in place, but you're expecting me to bargain, aren't you?_

"As always you are hard to please," he remarks dryly. "Your expectations are always so cumbersome. What do you want, a written contract, _a handshake_?" He gives her a sour look. "You're such a selfish girl, the centre of your own little universe. I'm in a hurry, things far bigger than you are at stake here, don't cross me girl."

"Well, what would I fill my time with if I couldn't spend my every waking moment defying you? Since the place you've had me locked in is just so_ charming_, and I find I have _oodles_ of time without friends, family, education, or career aspects to worry about. I assure you, the centre of my universe has been you for quite some time now: a great, big black hole, sucking the life out of everything I've ever known, which is pathetically little. I'm all about you Goblin King, practically obsessed in fact, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm expecting more than you can manage."

"Fine then," he growls. "I give you my word, is that enough? When we return to the Labyrinth I will assist you in searching for Toby."

She smiles. No promise of how long he will persist in that search or what exactly his 'assistance' might entail. It does not matter, letting him think he has deceived her will trick him in turn, and all she need do is pretend to be duped by his offer.

"Deal," she hisses. "Now tell me what I'm supposed to do. You say I need to take you there, to take _us_ there, how does that work exactly?"

"Rather than telling you it would be faster to show you, the magic is hard to control." The luminous outline that is the Goblin King moves towards her and she shrinks back instinctively. Making an irritated sound he reaches out and clamps his hands on either shoulder once more, as if he is about to shake her again.

"Go fish," she growls, ducking out of his grasp, "hands off."

"Sarah," he warns, grabbing for her again.

Violently she rebels, slapping his hands away. She feels her teeth crack together in fury. "DO. NOT. TOUCH. ME." She seethes, "EVER." The last thing she wants is his grimy paws all over her, it's humiliating enough that she needs him at all to use the magic.

Her anger diffuses slightly as her mind flips another of its odd loops. She imagines he is reaching out for her not with hands, but wings. Can he still turn into an owl? That was a pretty cool move. She doesn't like owls, his fault, but is that Labyrinth magic or Jareth magic? Her inattention costs her, the vague listlessness which has washed over her ebbs and she finds herself in the Goblin King's embrace again. She tries to angrily shake him off.

"Stop!" she yells. "You're breaking the law. What did I just say?"

"Whose law is that precious, the _Goblin Queen_? You think now that you have an attachment to the Labyrinth you can be its master? Misguided, Sarah dear, since you have no idea what the Labyrinth _is_." His fingers dig into her arms and she stops struggling, biting her lip hard.

"This is a necessary evil, I assure you. Did you really think I would show you how to turn the magic to your whim? Give me some credit. Don't mistake this contact for intimacy though; I have absolutely no desire to touch you." He leans in close to whisper nastily. "Besides… you stink."

Sarah feels her face flame. Odd that after nine years of people thinking she was mad, and eventually being mad, a mention of her personal hygiene is a harsher blow than her mental state. It's not her fault they don't let the patients bathe often; but then, even if they did she would try to avoid it. Having unwanted company for every activity your body must perform is such a dehumanising practice.

She giggles, thinking about her own filthiness. "You'll be dirty like me now, and then the disease will spread to you. Madness is catching you know."

He snorts. "You're not mad; I just had you sent here to keep you out of trouble and out of the Labyrinth, it seems I underestimated your dedication to destruction."

He's wrong, she is mad. Years of antipsychotic drugs do that to a person. Her head feels like it's full of goldfish, flapping and panting out of the water, orange.

"There are orange goldfish in my head," she whispers conspiratorially.

His grip tightens again, making her grind her teeth.

"How unfortunate," he drawls. "You'd best get that looked at once you leave _my_ Labyrinth, very soon, hopefully. I'm not sure what game you're playing but it's annoying, not amusing, and I fail to see how faking insanity will progress you in _any _helpful direction." He pushes her back against the wall and she bumps her head, almost biting her tongue. "Now shut up so I can concentrate."

She does, not because she wants to obey him but because she must. She's so close to winning, so close to the Labyrinth. She grins widely in the dark, hoping he will not notice. She is the Cheshire cat; if he turns into an owl now then she will eat him. The desire to ask him to turn into an owl rises and she swallows the words with difficulty, it's not often she can stop those compulsions, but this is an important moment.

He is breathing evenly in front of her, his hands no longer quite as vice-like on her arms. She can feel strands of her power being drawn into him through the flesh on flesh connection. A spark of fear tickles her spine, what is he takes back all the magic and leaves her behind? Can he do that without the tattoo? Surely not, if his body could contain that power normally then why would he have ever needed the connection?

She starts to feel itchy, or maybe she doesn't. Perhaps she's just unable to stand still and be sensible for any real length of time; she can't remember when such a thing was last expected of her. As the Goblin King's luminescence grows she hears a great roaring sound. Her vision darkens, and then she is blinded unexpectedly. She tries to shield her eyes but is unable to as her hands are still pinned to her sides by Jareth's hold. She shuts them, screwing her whole face up to avoid the bright light which is trying to force its way in. Her body shudders and she feels it trembling, her skin awash in gooseflesh. When the light dies away she stumbles backwards, falling as the Goblin King's arms release her.

For a while she cannot see anything, bright spots dance across her vision as she lies slumped on the ground, they keep the world from her. She can feel wind though, and knows they are no longer in that dark, cramped little room, she has escaped.

She rubs her eyes experimentally, as if wiping the impediment of her sight away.

"What the hell is this?" she hears the Goblin King hiss.

When she opens her eyes again she is face to face with a snake. A really big snake, huge, actually. It really does put Jareth's snake throwing to shame: this is a snake no one throws around. Perhaps Jareth didn't hiss at all, actually, it was probably this snake hissing, since that's what snakes do.

"Jörmungandr," she tells him.

"Gesundheit."

"No, it's Jörmungandr, the snake which encircles the world." She looks over at him, but he is still glaring up at the snake.

"I thought you were sneezing. So you know this snake then, I take it?"

Sarah glances back at the huge reptile poised to strike above them. "Well no, not personally."

He turns and gives her an exasperated look as she finds her feet. "When I left the Labyrinth there wasn't a giant snake hanging half out of the sky, that's the sort of thing I usually take notice of. It's reasonable to say that, now that you're connected to the Labyrinth, and as you are the only new element which has been introduced since I left it, this snake is your doing."

"Undoubtably."

The Goblin King gnashes sharp teeth in her direction, his eyes flicking once more to the snake. "Pray tell, how and why have you summoned a giant sky reptile?"

Sarah smiles up at the snake, looking around the Labyrinth properly for the first time. Freedom, glorious freedom, but still the shackles on her mind have followed, and now that they have displayed themselves so openly she feels slightly overwhelmed.

"The snake is in my head," she explains.

"Not to naysay you, Sarah," he sighs, giving her a long suffering look. "But it's quite obviously not." He points directly at Jörmungandr as if to prove his point.

"Oh, don't do that," she cautions. "Pointing is rude you know, you're going to upset him."

The Goblin King growls, marching over to her and clapping his hands directly in front of her face. "Do try to focus on the important points, precious. Giant snake, why is there a giant snake?"

Sarah tries to hide a smile as Jörmungandr's eyes narrow and he hisses loudly, flicking his long tongue out towards Jareth.

The Goblin King jumps, stumbling away. "It's alive?" he hisses, or the snake hisses, perhaps they both hiss?

She rolls her eyes. "Of course it's alive, didn't I tell you that you were going to upset it, pointing your dirty finger at it?"

"In what world is that actually a rule? And why the hell would you put some giant angry snake here?"

Sarah's eyes flash and she takes a step towards the Goblin King. "Look around Kingy, it's a rule in my world, this world. You really are slow, the snake, the rules, they're all in my head."

He frowns. "Which has_ what _to do with anything exactly?"

"I'm linked to the Labyrinth," she drawls, "figure it out genius. You bent the Labyrinth to your will, now it's bent to mine."  
He glares at her angrily. "While it's true that the mind of the Labyrinth and its master are one, it's not like there isn't a consciousness filter between them to stop everything from spilling out. Whereas this is just-"

"Insane?" She smiles prettily at him, watching him pale.

"You can't be serious, what am I looking at here exactly?"

"Jörmungandr," she grins, flourishing a hand towards the snake. "And over there I see a giant bottle of ketchup wearing a hat. There's also some of the goldfish from my mind performing back flips, and that over there looks like an occupational health and safety workshop."

His face is bleak when he turns away from the spirals of madness coiling out across the Labyrinth, he closes his eyes. "What have you done?"

She pushes her knotty hair back over her shoulders, shooting him a backward glance as she takes a step forward. "Welcome to my Labyrinth Goblin King, my mind. I'm crazy, didn't I tell you that? There is no consciousness filter because I can no longer discern between what's real and what's not. Everything here is just as twisted as the mind you helped break with nine years of confinement." She laughs. Even she herself is half afraid of the mental prison she has traded for another of her own making. The trap closes, however, and the Goblin King is now caught in the wasteland of her insanity. "Welcome home Goblin King, "she grins, "I hope you'll like it here."

* * *

Thanks for the out pouring of faves, follows and reviews from y'all. For now updates will probably remain weekly, although I'll try to throw in an extra wherever possible. I do have one future chapter already written, but have absolutely no idea where it fits into the story yet so it's still a ways off, that will be a double update to look forward to when it happens.

**Smiles1998:** It's safe to say he has no idea about mental institutions. They definitely don't have any in the Underground, but you're right about the population all being committed!

**TheRealEatsShootsAndLeaves: **Oh yes, it shall be glorious.

**J Luc Pitard:** Labyrinth successfully torn, now to watch them fight it out!

**gevalia:** Aw thanks, knowing I caused some post-story-depression is a pretty big compliment (but OMG I'm also sorry *cries*) feel free to make this your new addiction.

**qiana:** Can you? I hope so, I just love dragging my answers out for as long as possible, hopefully they're worth it. It is, indeed, Saturday - like you I wish I could update faster, hopefully I'll have the opportunity to throw in an extra chapter a week from time to time. Right now I'm writing this with no outline, flying by the seat of my pants, so we'll see!

**Getsunohimesama:** Those purple beans have a lot to answer for, I'm seriously considering taking them up as a diet regime. Yes, the romance will be long in coming, so if it seems impossible right now then I can only agree with you!

**Whyndancer:** The dark, the angst *rubs hands together* oh yesssss.

**Kaytori:** Do you know I do it on purpose? I'm a terrible person. I usually know how I'll end the chapter before I've figured out most of the content!

**Bee-cee-kay:** Missing a chapter means you got two in a row though, right? Sometimes that can be pretty awesome ;D

**Gotta Dance 88:** I hope you do and I hope you find it to your liking :)

**Aleta Wolff:** I knew you'd like the darkness in this one!

**Lylabeth1:** Wow, prevaricate is now my new favourite word. I'm taking it to bed to snuggle tonight. Although writing the fae as truth tellers can be a pain I find it's always worth it, and I'm absolutely going with that here. I'm glad you gave it a try and didn't regret it. It's unfortunate that so many good tropes have been overused to the point that we all shudder when reading summaries, I'm all too familiar with that feeling. Thanks for giving this one a chance :)

**Veggie-Vamp:** Glad to hear it, I'll try to keep it interesting!


	4. Ouroboros

**Malice drinks one half it's own poison.**

**-Seneca**

* * *

**1986**

Jareth stared into the crystal orb with a lazy, satisfied expression.

Inside the crystal was an irate young woman with dark, chocolate hair. That hair was very frizzy at the moment. There had been some recent oddities with her hairspray, namely that it had been replaced with bug spray, unbeknownst to her. As she had rushed out of the door of the William's household to catch her bus, a bus that she had in actual fact already missed, she had dowsed her hair quickly and unknowingly. Now she stood scowling in the crystal reflection, and even though she spoke in low, angry tones, he could hear every word with a crystal clear clarity through the device.

"What do you mean I'm fired?" She growled.

The middle aged woman hanging over the counter, which stood between them, chewed a stick of gum noisily. "Well firstly we got all these complaints from the other patrons about you, and now you're late, Sarah? Honestly hun, what did you expect?"

"But I've never had any complaints, I don't understand why you're suddenly telling me that there have been complaints!"

The older woman eyed her with disdain and ran a hand through her faded red, threadbare perm. "Yeah but there have been oodles in the past week," she drawled. Thoughtfully she started counting them off on her red, lacquered nails. "Improper use of the facilities, improper personal conduct. Mistreatment of library assets, rude behaviour towards patrons-"

"That's a lie!" Yelled Sarah. "I've never done any of those things."

The aged librarian sniffed noisily. "What, it's all some great conspiracy?"

Sarah gave the woman a helpless grimace. "Yes, well... Maybe. I honestly don't know what's going on but the past couple of weeks have been really weird for me. Please, I haven't done anything wrong, and I really love this job. Besides, you aren't even paying me, I just need this for the work experience credits, I'm struggling for grades right now."

"Sorry sweetly," she replied, looking a little sympathetic. "This is not my call. The boss has spoken, you can't come in anymore."

Sarah balled her fists by her sides and ground her teeth. "Fine, can I at least speak to the boss about this then?"

"Oh no," said the woman, shaking her head sadly. "He's just gone off for a holiday in Bali, won't be back for a month or so."

"Of course," muttered Sarah with growing irritation. "That's just the state of my current luck in a nutshell. Can you at least tell me when he's back so I can try and catch him here to discuss this?"

The older woman wrung her hands, looking distressed. "Sweety, I don't think you get it. It's not just that you're fired, but that you're not allowed to come in here _at all_. You've been banned from the library completely, all your privileges ate revoked."

Jareth chuckled, admiring the distraught look on Sarah Williams face over this news. He had known it would be a rather brilliant addition to the situation when he had first thought of it, seeing her reaction now had made it all worth while.

Spoik waddled into the throne room with a large cup of brown liquid and placed it carefully at the kings side.

"Ah, well done Spoik," he complimented the goblin, not looking away from the surface of the orb, where Sarah was now fighting back tears. He picked up the teacup carelessly, raising it to his lips.

The aging librarian was frowning now, leaning in to say something to Sarah in confidence.

"Can you smell that?" She asked. "Something smells horrible, like chemicals or something."

Sarah patted her hair nervously, her mouth a thin line.

It was a combination of this comment and the contents of the cup which caused Jareth to spit the liquid in an inelegant, and rather out of character, display. Staring into his cup he looked down at Spoik, who was sitting at his feet with a silly look all over his face.

"What's is this muck, it tastes like-"

"Dirty water!" Offered the goblin.

"Exactly. It tastes like..." Jareth paused, giving the goblin a considering look and sighing deeply. "Forget it," he grumbled, holding out the cup to Spoik. "I've had enough dirty water for now, take it back to the kitchens."

"Yes king!" Cried the little creature happily, sipping the remainder of the cups contents as it hurried out of the door.

It was his own fault, he knew better than to accept food or drink from the little cretins usually. He'd just been distracted by his new favourite pastime: making Sarah Williams life miserable. Getting even with Sarah was far easier than he had ever imagined it might have been.

1998

The damn snake was enormous.

It wasn't like he was afraid of it, not really… fine, maybe a little bit. That was only sensible though, wasn't it? He'd thought it was just some huge decorative piece before it had started baring its teeth at him, fangs which were bigger than his damn castle. But what could he do about it? No magic, no control over the Labyrinth, and even less control over Sarah Williams.

She smiles up at him, as if reading his mind. "Welcome home Goblin King, I hope you'll like it here."

Of course he doesn't like it, what's to like? What the hell has she twisted his Labyrinth into? It's only now that he can see the evidence of her instability that he can actually accept it.

"You really are mad, aren't you?" he asks.

She snorts, clearly unimpressed that he's so late to the party. "As I've been telling you, I have mentioned it about three of four times now."

It just doesn't make sense. "But how is that possible?" he asks. "I placed you somewhere the mentally ill go to get better, not worse, and certainly not to contract psychosis."

"Perhaps you should have tried somewhere not so full of crazy people then, less padding on the walls and all that. I'm surprised you didn't consider a straight out maximum security prison."

"That would have been dangerous to your wellbeing," he replies dryly. "I didn't necessarily want you injured, Sarah, just out of the way."

She grins. "Well, as luck would have it I'm fit and healthy in body thanks to you, if a little stinky, but that will probably wash off, unlike my current mental disposition. How nice that we can both reap the rewards of your hard work: spilling straight out of my head and into your path."

This is worse than he imagined. He thought that with the link gone there would be issues with the functioning of the Labyrinth, but this is something altogether alarming. Now the Labyrinth is worse than useless, it's dangerous; runners will be in far too much danger to use it. He glances up at the pissed off looking snake, it seems to be following his movements with a keen intelligence. _Okay, that's the first thing that needs to go._

"We need to fix this Sarah," he mutters.

She grins at him wildly. "We? Goblin King. We? Oh, there is no_we._ This is your mess, and since I'm quite mad I personally can't see the problem." She gives him a look of false pity. "Try not to think of the Labyrinth as broken, Goblin King, think of it as under new management. Learn to embrace change."

"This isn't change, this is ruin!" he yells furiously. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Sarah yawns, rubbing a hand down the side of her face. "And you keep saying that like it should mean something to me, which it obviously doesn't. I've beaten you. I'm currently ahead in this game of revenge, do try not to cry about it."

Jareth gives a frustrated growl. "You think you've won? You've-" he stops. She's not listening, instead she is marching towards a large brass weathervane off to one side of the twisted, jagged path. "Where are you going?" he asks.

She doesn't break stride to reply. "I'm going to look for my brother, obviously," she shoots back over her shoulder, rudely, not even bothering to turn her face towards him.

"Wait! We haven't sorted this mess out yet, Sarah, you can't just leave."

She stops before the weathervane, pushing the tail of the large, metal rooster until it spins in a quick circle. "All evidence to the contrary."

"You can't be serious. Stop so we can discuss this."

"I can be whatever I want, thank you very much." She replies. "Not always by choice, of course; but I'm sure it's in the mix there somewhere."

He watches as the brass rooster comes to a stop, pointing towards some rather shifty looking trees, which seem to be… melting.

"North!" cries Sarah gleefully, patting the metal bird on the head.

He watches in horror as she begins to move in that direction, as if the guidance of a metallic fowl has always been considered as reliable as a compass. How can he stop her? No matter what he needs to return the Labyrinth to normal... or at least more normal than this. Whether it means tricking, pleading or seducing he has to make Sarah return his connection to the Labyrinth. Until this moment he has never been without magic, or rather, he can no longer remember a time before it. He feels so… weak, useless. How does one get anything done in this state? How do you reason with a mad woman without the convenience of oubliette teleportation?

"Sarah!" he yells after her, talking a few strides towards the weathervane. "You are forgetting that I know where your brother is."

She smirks, tossing her hair. A puddle of the nearby, rapidly liquefying tree, laps against her white canvas shoe. "I'm crazy Goblin King, not an amnesiac," she reminds him. "I haven't forgotten anything. I just don't want your help."

His stance is that of a predator as he starts to stalk forward angrily. "Even if you don't want it you might n-"

He is cut short as the metallic rooster by his side explodes in a shower of sharp, scrap fragments, hitting the ground instinctively. Above him hovers the snake, swaying as if in a rhythmic dance. Its mouth is open wide, fangs at the ready and tongue lashing back and forth. He did not even see it move, but there is now nothing where the weathervane stood but a giant crater. With a hiss of pain he glances down, realising that there is now a slash up the side of his leg.

_At least it wasn't iron this time..._

After a short, shocked silence he hears Sarah begin to laugh.

"What did I tell you, Goblin King? Don't point, it's terribly discourteous."

As he raises himself on shaking hands he wishes for a pithy reply. He'd settle for a furious tirade if he had one, but his heart is hammering so hard in his chest it seems to have disabled all other bodily functions to power that single function. He's weak as a kitten, and he's about to be eaten by a giant, flying reptile whose name consists of half of the human's known alphabet. Just as he opens his mouth to frame some sort of reply, the words are wiped out as the -less than solid- tree to Sarah's left explodes. He watches her eyes go wide as a light rain of sawdust starts to fleck her hair.

"Jörmungandr!" she shouts up at the furious snake. "Err… down? There, there boy. Who's a good boy? Don't attack your master now!"

The snakes head whips out again, lightning fast, and rips apart the ground to the right of her. Sarah is splattered by the remnants of one of the runny, former trees in the process. Jareth hears her swear furiously.

He chuckles darkly. "Right, so now who is demeaning Norse mythology? It's not a dog, Sarah. Down? Honestly."

Even with the distance between them he can see her glare.

"Yeah, well I'd like to see you do any better. I don't have a lot of experience with snakes. Some prat threw one at me once, but seriously, that's about all the contact I've ever had with one. Not surprising since I'VE BEEN LOCKED IN A MENTAL INSTITUTION FOR NINE YEARS!"

"And you keep saying that like it should mean something to me," he returns dryly, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows that the rule with snakes is that you just need to stay still, stop moving Sarah."

Funnily enough, the snake is now managing to accomplish exactly what he's wanted from her since they first arrived.

"But I am staying still," she growls through clenched teeth.

They both flinch at the loud hissing which fills the air, just before Jörmungandr dives towards Sarah again. It is a near miss this time, as if the reptile is playing with her. Jareth watches as a thin line of blood appears on her cheek and begins to trickle down her chin. She is now parchment white, yet she hasn't moved an inch. Neither of them have moved but the snake still seems to be enraged. Something isn't right, standing still is the best way to diffuse an angry snake situation. They clearly weren't provoking him or making any threatening movements, but then, what could be counted as threatening to a snake big enough to encircle the world? Jareth pauses; this is no trifling issue, what happens if Sarah is killed? Would the Labyrinth remain this way? It is possible it may revert to its last iteration, or become leaderless so he can reclaim his position. It is also possible it will be forever infected with this madness and he will not be able to regain his place. It isn't worth the risk; besides, he hasn't yet acquired the mark to bond the Labyrinth to his will, which will be required for the power transfer.

Suddenly he realises his own folly, of course, this is Sarah's snake. She herself just said she didn't know much about snakes, and since her mind isn't working normally, normal rules do not apply. He looks up at her, still unmoving, her eyes locked on the swaying snake.

"Sarah, run!" he yells.

Startled, she opens her mouth and closes it again, blinking at him helplessly.

"Don't just stand there, this is a crazy person snake, the same rules don't apply. Run the hell away!" He moves backwards as he shouts this, eager to put some distance between himself and the creature.

Is this madness, this thing encircles the world, how far can I get from it exactly? He knows for now he'll settle for being a clear distance from its mouth, at least.

He frowns as he realises the girl still has not moved. "What are you hesitating for? Get out of there!" he yells.

"I can't!" she screams.

He can see she is squirming on the spot, performing a strange dance of her own in parallel to the snake's metrical sway.

"You need to run," he roars, "Stop being a loony for a moment and consider self-preservation, would you."

Her voice is a cadence of hysteria on her reply. "I can't," she repeats. "My foot is stuck in this freaky tree goo!"

He sees now that she is not dancing, but struggling to free her foot, one shoe thickly coated with the remains of what once was a rather sickly looking tree.

There is another flash of scales and the ground bursts in a cascade of soil and foliage, metres from Jareth's flight path. It is a sobering reminder that Sarah is not the snake's sole focus, they are both in danger.

"Oh for-" He drops into a run towards her, cursing himself, and her, and the whole situation. His long confident strides seem a lie when compared to his current state of mind.

She is fighting doggedly to free herself from the snare; sharp nail imprints stand out on her calf, where she has pulled strips of skin away in her battle. The sticky substance seems to have only reached one shoe. With an impending dread he turns his head sharply to where Jörmungandr waits, poised to strike, and then thoughtfully glances back at Sarah's restriction.

It's just her shoe. Not her foot, but her shoe.

Eyes narrowed, he leans in, trying to quench the anger in his voice. "Just take it off," he whispers dangerously, eyes flicking back to the serpent above.

"What?"

He closes his eyes, trying to find the centuries of patience he has acquired. "Just take your bedevilled shoe off, girl!" he snarls.

As she looks down at her own shoe, clearly still failing to comprehend his meaning, he furiously crouches to rip at one of the trailing laces. As he pulls the knot free, the footwear loosens, and he pushes her backward, watching as she falls and her foot slips free. She lands hard on her backside with a rush of air to indicate her surprise; it clearly hadn't occurred to her that the item of clothing might be holding her back.

The girl has lost her sanity and her common sense.

As she scrambles to her feet he rushes past her, running full tilt with no particular direction in mind.

Forward, just forward is fine, it's not like any one place is safer than another in this lunacy. He can hear her beating an awkward path behind him, one shoe on one off.

"Looks like your own mind is out to get you!" He yells, wondering why he's trying to make conversation when their lives are at stake.

"I never said I liked myself very much!" Is her laboured return.

He knows his strength will flag soon, the cut on his legs is aching and leaking an alarming amount of blood.

_There is no way in hell I'm going to be killed by Sarah Williams inner demons._

He glances back over his shoulder, knowing it's not a very good idea. The position of the snake makes it appear as if they've made no progress in their flight at all.

"Can't you go swallow your tail like a good. Ouroboros?" He shouts. Perhaps he has contracted a little bit of insanity, his panic has made him especially conversational.

Looking backwards proves itself to be the worst of ideas when this foot hits something outside of his vision and he stumbles forwards, losing his balance. The snake becomes less of a concern than gravity, which seems to be strangely lacking all of a sudden. He does not fall and hit the ground, but rather, keeps falling, endlessly. It's only as he comes to his senses for long enough to turn back and see where he's falling that his decent stops. Something has grabbed him rather roughly. He feels Sarah barrel into him, also tumbling as he has, and slip further down the passage. In the dark it seems to be hands which have caught him, helping hands.

_Solace in this madness._

The hands to this left form a face from their combined shapes, like the preparation for shadow puppetry. "Which way, up or down?" They ask.

"Down!" Yells Sarah, somewhere below him.

"No," he yells back. "Not down, definitely not down!"

"She said down," call the hands, completely ignoring him.

"She said down!" Is the echo all along the drop.

Everything securing him suddenly lets go and he starts to freefall again, slowed only by the occasional fondle from an errant pair of hands along the way. A few of which grapple him in rather improper, and sensitive, areas.

"Stop that," he snarls, wondering how sensible that is since they _are_ slowing his decent. When he hears a squeak from Sarah below he allows himself a grin, at least they're giving her the same treatment.

Finally the drop curves slightly and they are slowed slightly before falling from a ledge to hit the ground.

He falls heavily on Sarah, and his elbow, hitting the funny bone hard enough to make him grind his teeth. She is gasping under him clearly winded, both hands clutching at him weakly in an awkward attempt to push him off. Unmoving, he lounges, taking in their surroundings. An oubliette, a cave? Somewhere dark, the blackness is broken only by one long ray of light which slashes across Sarah's angry face as she struggles to draw breath.

He looks down at her, finally moving away in a slow and obvious effort, as if doing her a considerable favour.

"You know, now that I'm really looking , Sarah, I cannot help but realise. After all this time, with the passing of years... You've really let yourself go, haven't you?"

The spark in her eyes is nothing less than glorious, really, but he takes some self satisfaction at the indignant burn he's put in her cheeks.

* * *

A/N: Please forgive if the quality on this one is a bit... Meh. Currently housesitting for a friend with no computer, this was written and uploaded by phne simply because I like to keep deadlines.

**Getsunohime**: Luckily I'm actually mad, so writing this is a breeze! Hmm those beans, you bring the product, I'll do the marketing. ? Profit.

**Bee-cee-Kay**: We like our Jareth off kilter, but hey, I like my Sarah off kilter too...

**Smiles1998:** She warned him, he did not believe, now he'll live to regret it!

**Kaytori**: To clarify- he didn't directly lie, but he misdirected her into intentionally believing something which was a lie, therefore making the same outcome. Thus his words at the end of chapter 2. I like to think he's not an idiot, but I think he's got a lot to learn when it comes to the human world.

**Jetredgirl**: You ain't seen nothing yet.

**Sarah Rose 29:** Now they're both trapped!

**J Luc Pitard**: I think everyone's felt like that at some point, it human to want others to fully understand the pain you experience. As for current events, her, her sad. Sad for victims and culprit alike. It must be a very sad and twisted mind that feels the need to act out in such a way, but I also pity anyone who feels themselves pushed to a point where they think that's a logical course of action.

**TheRealEatsShootsAndLeaves**: Homework is sacred!

**Xx-Veggie-Vamp-xx:** Glad you're enjoying, nice to have you along fir the ride.

**AletaWolff**: They're both in trouble now.

**Zenobia2:** Consider this the amendment to the ending, where everyone is mad (even me)

**Morefindiel**: He's going to suffer the consequences of what he's done!


	5. Words in the dark

**"The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury." **  
**― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations**

* * *

**1986**

"Hoggle I need you!" called Sarah, an angry frown slashing her brow.

A few minutes later the wizened, little dwarf appeared over her shoulder, mopping his brow as if he had run to respond to her call.

"Sarah," he huffed. "I was out pruning azalias by the far wall when I heard your call. It's a Tuesday today, isn't it? You never call on Tuesdays anymore. Didn't you say that school nights were a bad idea and that you were trying to dedicate yourself to your assignments since your grades are flagging?"

She nodded. "Yes, it is Tuesday, and yes, I did say that, but this is more important."

The little man sniffed, looking at her expectantly.

"It's the Goblin King," she told her reflected friend. "He's doing this; it's got to be him!"

Hoggle shuddered at the words 'Goblin King' and scowled angrily. "What do you mean he's doing it, he's doing what? What are you talking about?"

"This!" shouted Sarah, "everything. The missing assignments, changed beauty products, expired bus passes, even the job at the library, it's him; it's got to be him."

The dwarf gave her a disbelieving smile. "It's true he's a rat, Sarah, but isn't that just a little bit… petty? Sure you've had a run of bad luck, but I don't think that means that Jareth is behind it."

"You don't understand Hoggle; this isn't just some ordinary bad luck streak. People's memories aren't right, things go missing that I _know _were there minutes earlier. I swear I've even heard goblins giggling lately, I'm not imagining this. Who else could it be? I haven't run into any other tricky otherworldly beings in my travels. This has his name all over it."

"But Sarah," he chided. "He has no power over you, what exactly could he do to you?"

She snorted. "Yes, I thought so too. No power over me _should_ have been a good safety net for future reprisals, but Hoggle, he still has power over everybody else."

Her friend paled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean everyone important to me, everyone I've ever known. He can make them think and do whatever he wants; he can manipulate them into believing whatever he likes. That I'm a bad student, a bad worker, that I have poor personal hygiene or that I've undergone plastic surgery. That I'm an extra-terrestrial for goodness sake! Anything, he can make them believe anything, and if enough of them are thinking it then it's considered the truth via the majority here. This is a serious problem; he can really stuff up my life if this goes on."

She watched Hoggle wipe his sweaty palms on the legs of his pants. "I don't know Sarah, why would he do such a thing?"

"That's just it," she cried. "I don't know why. I need you to talk to him, or I need to talk to him. I have to make contact somehow."

Her friend gave her a fearful look. "I… I can't," he quaked.

"Then maybe you could ask Sir Didymus for me? Please Hoggle, I'm really asking. I'm desperate here, I need your help."

His lip hardened, but Sarah could still see a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Okay," he agreed hesitantly. "I'll see what I can find out. I still think you might be wrong though, Sarah. Don't be too disappointed if it all comes to nothing."

Sarah nodded, watching her friend's image fade in the mirror. She let out a sigh of relief, feeling slightly more assured now that she was doing something to better her situation. Surely the Goblin King wouldn't be unreasonable, was he simply being a bad sport over losing their game? Now that she'd reached out there must be a way to resolve this.

As she grasped the hairbrush on her dresser, her hand met an unfamiliar object. She glanced down to see she was gripping an overripe banana, not her hairbrush. A banana which most certainly had not been on her dresser when she'd first sat down. Cursing under her breath she tried to ignore the quiet litany of tittering which echoed throughout the room. Once she figured out what Jareth's problem was, she was going to wring his perfect neck.

**1998**

She _had_ said down…

The elbow to the ribs was not expected though, nor was a full sized Goblin King on top of her. Any sized Goblin King, actually…

She feels the air in her lungs catch as her diaphragm spasms and contracts painfully, preventing her from drawing breath. Something so basic, breathing in and out, oxygen, now that it is denied to her she is lost to terror. She clutches him instinctively, realising seconds later that this is a result of panic, not reasoning. The pull becomes a push as she tries to roughly shove him away, unable to perform the action effectively because she is positioned beneath him awkwardly, her arms inhibited and her torso still cramping. Her breast quivers for air as she tries to fight him off, he lounges indolently in the semi darkness and a bar of light finds her face, flash blinding her vision.

As she finally draws a desperate, ragged breath he removes himself with slow and deliberate nuance, making it clear he does so of his own volition. Trying to blink away her visual impairment she can see the outline of him now as she shields her eyes, a bright patch in the gloom of the cavern.

His voice echoes, an obvious sign that they have found a chasm large enough to allow sound to carry and return like an audience of strangers.

"You know, now that I'm really looking, Sarah. I cannot help but realise… after all this time, with the passing of years… you've really let yourself go, haven't you?"

She feels her face heat with fury and embarrassment. The echo lends the illusion that a myriad of voices are paying her insult.

"You're a pig," she gasps, still not quite recovered.

As her eyes begin to adjust she can see the self-satisfied smile on his face. Smug bastard, if she had a needle and thread she'd sew his mouth up. She probably shouldn't be trusted with a needle and thread…

She glances around the underground passage, trying to make the decision as to whether this is the same oubliette she saw on her first trek through the Labyrinth, an outrageously similar oubliette, or not an oubliette at all. Oubliette… that's another great word, the 'oo' makes you purse your lips very suggestively when said aloud.

"What exactly are you doing?" he asks.

She stops herself, realising she's been thoughtlessly making kissy faces at the Goblin King and probably cooing 'oo' aloud.

She fakes nonchalance, "trying to get us out of here."

"Really?" he drawls. "Well… breath taking effort there, keep up the good work." He frowns pointedly at her and then surveys the cavern. "Where the devil are we anyway?"

"It's your Labyrinth," she mutters dryly, "shouldn't you know the answer to that?"

"My Labyrinth?" he raises his brow in disbelief. "Mine? I think we've established that this is _your _Labyrinth, Sarah."

_Right._

"Well, we're not about to be torn apart by Jörmungandr anymore, that's where we are."

"I meant more like a physical location," he says dryly. "Although you're right, it seems like the snake can't follow us down here."

"The snake has a name."

"Which I have no intention of remembering. I'm not about to become on a first name basis with something conjured from your head, in my home, which so far has done nothing but try to eat me."

She smiles. "You don't know that it was trying to eat you, not really."

"Kill me horribly then, or maim me beyond recognition. I remain unwavered on snake anonymity."

She shrugs. The snake at least behaved in a mildly snake-like manner, those trees however… That stickiness was just gross, and now she has no shoe, and her foot is cold.

"My foot is cold," she tells him. Once upon a time there was more of a brain to mouth filter in place, she wonders if that's something that will one day come back.

He gives her an exasperated look and then turns with a frustrated sigh, marching out into the shadows of the fissure.

Straight into a wall.

She hears him crack his forehead on solid rock and bites back laughter. So it's a small space after all, her mental instability has simply bent echoes to suit its whims. Sound cannot be trusted, what else? The possibilities are endless. Perhaps these walls aren't mineral rock at all, but rock candy? She stops herself short of testing the theory, there's no way she's letting Jareth catch her out licking walls. Not while she still has enough control over her senses to cease the action. Hopefully it's not rock candy, because if she's missing out on licking rock candy then that's an absolute travesty. Her stomach grumbles loudly at the sentiment, perhaps she shouldn't have turned her last meal into an owl after all.

"I am also hungry," she announces.

The Goblin King growls, rubbing his sore forehead as he steps back into the rectangle of fading light. "I do wonder if you're telling me all of this because you're hoping for some sort of solution. Those sound suspiciously like personal problems, I'd say it's up to you to figure them out."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" she asks, honestly curious. This hole in the ground doesn't seem to have much to offer either of them.

With a sigh he sits heavily against the wall. "How should I know? Use your imagination." He pauses, looking slightly horrified at his own suggestion. He raises his hands in a subduing gesture. "Wait, no. I take that back. Do_ not_ use your imagination. Under _no circumstances_ are you to use your imagination. You'll kill us both."

She blinks, wondering if she really has such direct control over the Labyrinth's landscape in a real time environment.

_Interesting._

Does that mean the walls _could _possibly be rock candy? "Do you think these walls are made of rock candy?" she asks.

He closes his eyes, leaning back into the wall tiredly. "I don't know or care right now. I hurt too much to give a damn."

Sarah glances at his bruised forehead and realises that this is not the injury he is referring to. There is a deep slash down his thigh which seems to be oozing blood. She's slightly surprised to see the blood is red, not a royal purple. She thought his very DNA would have 'king' encoded through it. It's a nasty looking wound.

"Why isn't it healing?" she asks.

His eyelids flicker briefly. "I imagine it is healing since it isn't getting any worse."

_Except for that whole bleeding to death thing, no worse than that..._

"Yeah but… shouldn't it just heal like - BAM! All better?"

He opens one eye and cocks an eyebrow. "BAM? What the heck is that? Some sort of magic? I'm all out right now, unfortunately."

Sarah frowns. "But you're not human so you should regenerate instantly, shouldn't you?"

"Is _that_ what all non-humans do? Where do you get these ridiculous ideas from?"

"That's what you see in stories. Like vampires, they have insta-healing, they're practically indestructible."

He sighs. "Wonderful. I can't wait to meet some of those later, near impossible to kill figments of your imagination. Anything else I should be looking out for?"

She quiets at his acid tone. Momentarily she feels guilty, but quickly pushes that aside. This is actually all _his_ fault, she will not apologise for this situation. She_ could_ let him channel magic through her again to heal himself, but why should she? She hates him; he ruined her life and turned everyone against her, even her own mind. She owes him absolutely nothing. Not to mention that then he'd have to touch her again, and just the thought of it makes her skin crawl.

"You should bind that or something," she sniffs, standing and dusting herself off. There, she hasn't been completely cold blooded about the injury, that's more than he deserves. Now she has been charitable and shown herself to be the better person, she doesn't actually _need _to help him. He doesn't deserve that much from her, nor should he expect it.

He glares at her and then begins to inspect his leg. Ignoring him she starts to forage through a small pile of stones tucked into the corner of the cavern.

"What are you doing?"

She selects a nice, chalky wedge of rock. "Figuring out my personal problems," she tells him. "I'm tired as well as hungry and cold footed; I'm making myself a place to sleep."

She bends, stone in hand, and begins to divide the room in half… unequally. The long shaky line she draws with the rock leaves a nice white path on the dark stone floor. She looks up to see him watching her.

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"That's a line," she tells him. "This is my side and that's your side. You are not allowed to cross the line."

"You're serious?"

"I'm always serious about sleeping unmolested."

He gives her a disgusted look, as if such a thing had never even occurred to him. Glancing down at the boundary, he sneers. "Why is my side smaller?"

She smiles sweetly. "Because I'm not making allowances for the breadth of your ego right now. I have the chalk rock, I have the power."

She leans down again to draw a large rectangle which will be her bed area.

"Do you really think that going to sleep is a good idea?" he drawls.

"I think it's an excellent idea," she shrugs. "That's what people do at night time, and when we left the human world it was pretty close to my bedtime. Besides, some problems get better if you sleep on them."

He gives an irritated sigh. "I don't think these problems are the sort that qualify-"

"Besides," she reasons, interrupting him. "Hoggle will be along to rescue us eventually."

"Hoggie? How will he even know where we are to find us? You're clearly delusional."

"Yeah," agrees Sarah. "I think we've covered that. So my reasoning should be sound since everything's playing to my tune now. Anyway, he's a dwarf, dwarves are all about being underground and tunnels and stuff."

"Right," he agrees, rolling his eyes. "They are now because that's what you think, and your mind is spilling forth whatever muck it wants and making it truth."

She ignores him, settling herself onto the bed rectangle. She is not at all sure that this is the best course of action, but what else is there to do? She_ is_ tired, and there_ is_ a high possibility that Hoggle is looking for them right now. Well… for her at least, her companion might come as an unpleasant surprise. She resolves herself to lose the Goblin King as soon as she possibly can. The though cause her to hesitate. She can leave him behind easily enough, but right now time counts. Toby is lost in the Labyrinth somewhere and might be in danger… probably _is_ in danger, considering the circumstances. If the Goblin King knows where he is, and since things are clearly not as 'in her favour' as she first expected, wouldn't he be a useful resource? She struggles with herself, wondering if it's mere stubborn foolishness which makes her wants to part ways with him.

"Do you have a coin on you?" she asks.

He opens his eyes again, his glare far more lethargic than usual. "What?"

"A coin, I want to flip a coin, do you have one?"

He closes his eyes again. "No. There's no such thing as currency in the Labyrinth."

She pauses, considering this. Flipping a coin to decide whether she should abandon the Goblin King or not seemed like a sound plan before she realised neither of them had a coin.

"What do you use then?"

He opens one eye briefly. "Really, Sarah, I thought we were sleeping now, must you insist on interrupting me?"

"I must," she answers snidely, tossing her hair.

He ignores her, repositioning himself against the wall.

The last of the light is almost gone from above now, leaving them in the pitch black of the small fissure. Sarah isn't used to the dark, and she finds herself gripping the chalk rock so tightly it cuts into her hand. This reminds her of the dark room in the institute.

"Aren't you going to bind your leg up to stop that bleeding?" she mutters nervously, liking the sound of her voice in the dark. It fills the space where the bad things could be.

She hears him sigh heavily. "I have no idea what that means."

For a moment she merely enjoys his reply, she's not alone, and he is a known entity, taking up some of that foreboding dark space. It's minutes later when the meaning of his words actually find her and shock her into reply.

"You don't know what it means? What do you-"

_Ah._

Well of course he doesn't understand; when would the Goblin King have ever required first aid? If he had been injured in the past he would have simply patched it up with magic.

"It's like tying your leg up with cloth," she explains. "It puts pressure on the wound to help suppress bleeding." She stops, suddenly feeling the need to demonstrate the concept. It's not charity she's driven by, but the need to be distracted in the dark. "I can show you, if you like."

"I thought we weren't allowed to cross the line?" he asks wearily.

"We're not," she agrees, licking her lips. "But I can show you on myself and you can copy me."

A long silence passes in the room, making Sarah feel jittery, before the Goblin King replies. She hears him let out another long sigh.

"Sarah, I can't see anything, so if you're doing it right now it's not exactly useful."

_Oh…right._

"Ah." She says, wondering what the solution might be for this new problem. "Do you have any candles?"

She hears a sound that is eerily similar to someone grinding their teeth from Jareth's location. "You know what, Sarah? Let's just make the executive decision that I do not have anything that you need. Shoes, food, coins, candles, I've got nothing, okay?"

"Fine," she huffs. "Don't get testy with me, there must be some way to make it lighter in here."

Sitting up on her 'bed,' she knocks her head against something and brushes it away with a shriek.

"What is it now?" she hears the Goblin King groan.

"Spiders," she mumbles, shakily.

After a pause he replies. "Really?" She doesn't think she imagines the slightly worried note in his voice.

"Probably not, it didn't feel anything like a spider, actually."

Another pause. "You know, Sarah, I'm sincerely starting to hope I will bleed to death quickly, simply to avoid more of these exchanges."

She ignores him, flicking her hand out nervously for whatever swiped against her head. Her palm finds it in the dark, a vine… metal? She yanks down on it hard. There is a loud 'click' and then the wall of the cavern explodes with light. When the brightness fades from her eyes she can see Jareth blinking groggily, his eyes shielded, staring at the cavern wall opposite them.

The surface is no longer stone; or rather it doesn't appear to be. It is like a window into another room, bright, white and sterile looking. Inside an emergency team are pressing a cloth pad against the arm of a screaming woman. In her peripheral vision Sarah sees the metal, chain light switch, swinging above her head. Somehow she has managed to 'turn on' this image. She tries not to think about whether the chain was always there, or if she conjured it out of need.

The emergency crew unwrap a large roll of bandages and start taping up the woman's arm, one of them leaning in to give her a shot, hopefully to stop the screaming. If she knew how to she'd turn the volume down on this thing, it's really not necessary. She glances over at the Goblin King, who is staring at the scene blearily, as if completely lost on what's going on.

"Hey, pay attention," chides Sarah. "See, this is what you need to do to your leg. Wrap it tight, but not so tight that you cut off the circulation."

Unfocused eyes turn on her. "Did you conjure this?"

"That's not important."

The Goblin King looks between the scene unfolding before him and Sarah. "You've got absolutely no idea how you did this, do you?"

She shrugs. "None what-so-ever," she admits.

He shakes his head and starts ripping a length of fabric from his already torn pant leg. She can't help but notice he has perfectly shaped, hairless calves. Bastard.

He is surprisingly adept, despite his lack of experience in treating wounds, Sarah watches with morbid fascination as he grits his teeth and securely binds his leg, knotting his pants into place to stop the work from coming unravelled.

"Well done," she smirks. "I wasn't sure you could actually manage something so menial without your fancy magic powers."

"I'm more than just a pretty face," he replies dryly. "But, then again… I _am_ very easy on the eye…"

She snorts. "Your vanity is abnormal."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he leers.

She rolls her eyes. Well, at least they have light now, light good, dark bad. And now the Goblin King will live through the night… probably, which means she can decide whether to take him with her tomorrow morning… should she actually have the chance to go anywhere which isn't here, of course.

"Sarah," he calls, and she looks up at him expectantly. "Pray tell, what exactly is _this _medical procedure?" he raises an eyebrow expectantly.

She looks up to see a ponytailed young man in blue scrubs with his lips pressed firmly against the mouth of the woman with the injured arm.

"That's a touch intimate," goads the Goblin King. "Other things on your mind, love?"

She gives him a dry smile. "It's called CPR, Goblin King. Not my burning, lusty libido from being in the same space as you. Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation. You give the patient air and then pump their chest to stimulate blood flow to the heart. It's used when someone is in cardiac arrest, like if they stop breathing after a huge shock or drowning. It manually preserves brain function. Don't get all hot and bothered now," she grins. "See, that man will give her chest compressions now."

The Goblin King glances up at the scene again. "That's a man?"

Sarah's eyes flick back to the scene, confirming her previous conclusion. "Yeah it's a man, obviously."

"It looks like a woman," he argues.

"It's a man."

"But just look at that long hair, it rather effeminate" he says pointedly.

She stares at him. "Seriously? This is _you _saying that? _You _think that _he_ looks effeminate?"

"And?"

Sarah exhales loudly, rolling over on her makeshift 'bed' to face the wall. "Forget it."

"I demand to know what you're suggesting right now."

She smiles grimly, trying to find comfort on the hard, stone floor. "It's okay, I was totally wrong and you were right, that is definitely a woman. All effeminate men are women from now on, okay?"

"That doesn't even make any sense," he gripes.

"Goblin King," she warns.

"What?"

"Just shut up and go to sleep."

Thankfully, after no small amount of angry muttering, he does.

* * *

A/N: Phew, sorry it's late this week. I suspect next week will be very late, as it's my b'day and I've got lots of plans happening. Maybe if you're all really well behaved I'll try to get something up, but we'll see. It is a delight to be writing this on a computer, whole writing is terrible, I really do need to go back and fix that last chapter up a bit. I was rereading it for this chapter and did have a giggle, I have actually used fly spray on my hair instead of hairspray in the past. That is a true story, just as I was running out the door to work, I paused long enough to try and mask the smell with vanilla body spray... that was a seriously misguided decision. Let us never speak of it again...

**TheRealEatsShootsandLeaves:** Ahaha I said this would be dark, but isn't there too much humour? I'm glad you liked it, I will get serious at some point, but this is fun XD

**Smiles1998:** I cannot tell you how much I now wish the snake had sequins instead of scales. That would have been much, much more awesome. I will simply imagine it that way, shiny Jörmungandr

**Kaytori: **Do not panic my friend, all will be made right. He will pay, he will understand, and he will most assuredly get his just desserts.

**Morefindiel: **Hehe I was thinking to myself, what would just tip me over the edge? Revoked library privileges, glad I'm not alone in this!

**qiana: **I agree he is very childlike in his understanding and so very cat-like. That's a very fae quality I think. There will most definitely be retribution and honest understanding along the road.

**Gotta Dance 88: **If you are then we are both terrible people, and I can live with that.

**Aleta Wolff: **It's definitely that nothing is what it seems. But were those walls rock candy? I really want to know...

**J Luc Pitard: **I'm kind of looking forward to adventuring these two. Let's see how many weird and wonderful situation i can throw their way *grin

**lady fairy goth: **There's more than a bit of crazy in me (and remember it's catching). If something weird just pops into my head while I'm writing I just put it in, since I have lots of odd random thoughts it makes writing crazy easy ;D

**natzone: **I'll make the pie, you shove his face in. Glad you're enjoying the story so far, I look forward to the power play between these two (although I'm all for Sarah keeping the upper hand).


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